


Sorrow, Oh Lore Master Wise

by elrondhalfelven



Series: Of Elrond Peredhel [5]
Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-19 00:15:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29742066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrondhalfelven/pseuds/elrondhalfelven
Summary: The starlight waned and the skies wept, when Elrond the Half-Elven sailed West.
Series: Of Elrond Peredhel [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2185962
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	Sorrow, Oh Lore Master Wise

A babe in arms; nestled against his Naneth’s breast. Evening-clear eyes grey as the clouds without, foreboding as a sudden mist. Marble balconies and ivory pillars, entwined with lilac flowers and densely overgrown vines. A sea, vast and unknowing. Tears well in the babe’s eyes as his reddening face wrinkles, grief adorning and aging him by six thousand years of hardship- unbeknownst to him, yet- as he weeps for what is lost to him, fists balling unknowingly. Naught but the breast of his Naneth may comfort him, pressed to his lips as he sucks hungrily at the proffered milk.

_Foresighted, though I know not yet the meaning of that which appears to me._

A cupboard door, varnished mahogany and rickety in nature. Moonlight filtering through the marred beams, adorning the child’s shadowy hair, as starlight waxing upon an ebony sky. Darkening shores and scarlet oceans, flowing from quivering lips as he bites down to quell the salty tears that flee his burdened eyes, overcast and wise beyond their six winters. 

_Naneth, be it your will to depart from me now; I would have thou know such a fate cannot be undone; you have left me naught but thine sorrow, consuming me as once it did you- when next we meet I will be changed. Too many grief-stricken winters pass me now._

A dreary hill-top, encased with weeds and nettles. A kneeling ellon, dressed with pitch-dark night that not even the starlight can pierce, weeps upon the dampened grass; his silken tunic wettened as his pale cheeks, creased with sorrow as he bows his head and allows twilight hair to veil his finely-carved features as they crumple against his will. His tears of longing and deepest remorse for what he has been denied erode the begetting day engraved upon the weathering headstone, but he needs it written not; the birth date is the same as his own.

_Ai, Lore Master I am named but the deliberations which I do not cease to return to in my yearning mind no book I have read may quell; by what cruelty am I made to dwell here, in this place of unwanted reminiscence, whilst those to whom my unyielding love was given must pass away from me?_

_Yet the choice was mine. Immortality, my fate by my own word. Is it not so that I brought this burden upon myself with a net my own hands wrought?_

_I am naught but a lingering shadow of sundered ages._


End file.
